


Insulation

by artenon



Series: RoyEd Week 2017 [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: Ed thought of his automail joints locking up when it got too cold, the extra maintenance. Of the cold steel cutting through the cloth of his regular gloves, the shiver Roy would try but fail to suppress when Ed’s hand would accidentally brush against his skin.





	Insulation

**Author's Note:**

> For royed week day 4: gloves!
> 
> I can't believe I'm still managing to post stuff tbh I just love these two so much ;_;
> 
> Anyway have some schmoopy post-series where Ed still has his automail/alchemy for Reasons :'D

Ed tugged at the collar of his shirt and stared his reflection down in the standing mirror. Why was fashionable clothing a requirement for pricier food establishments? He wasn’t against dressing nicely in general—mostly because Roy Mustang looked fucking fine in a well-tailored outfit—but when you ate, you were liable to make a mess and get your clothes dirty, and eating too much could make your shirt begin to feel uncomfortably restrictive. Clothes shouldn’t be an indicator of how much money he had in his wallet anyway. It all felt very performative.

“Essentially everything in the upper echelons of society is performative,” Roy had said when Ed had complained about it.

Ed had muttered, “Your face is performative.”

Seriously, why the fuck wouldn’t you want to eat in comfortable, breathable clothes that could afford to get food-stained? Or in, you know, whatever the fuck you wanted, because they were just clothes.

Ed scowled at himself and undid the top couple buttons of his shirt. There, now at least he wasn’t choking in his own outfit.

In the mirror, he saw Roy reenter the bedroom, holding a small wrapped box in his hands.

“Still grumpy about the clothes?” Roy asked, coming to stand beside him.

Ed turned and appraised him. White button-down, purple waistcoat, dark gray overcoat. Yeah, he looked downright delectable. But Roy _liked_ getting all dressed up, so Ed didn’t feel bad about his shameless appreciation.

“I don’t know why I have to dress up just to eat. It’s not even like, kissing up to government officials or whatever.” That was also performative shit but at least Ed could understand the need to make a good first impression when you wanted to earn funding for your thousand and one potential projects. “I’m literally just eating.”

“Think of it this way, then,” Roy said. “Instead of dressing up for the restaurant, you’re dressing up for me, because I do enjoy seeing you in clothes I wish to tear off.”

“That’s kinda contradictory,” Ed said. “Do you want to see me in these clothes or not?”

“I very much do,” Roy said, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “You look stunning.”

“Ugh.” Ed got the urge to, but didn’t, look back at himself in the mirror for fear he was blushing. “I guess if it’s for you I can do it.” He pointed at the box in Roy’s hands. “Also, that’d better not be for me.”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Roy said, and proffered it.

Ed crossed his arms. “I thought you promised the ridiculously overpriced restaurant with admittedly delicious food would be my only present.”

“Well,” Roy said, and paused for effect, “I lied. Happy birthday.”

“Fucker,” Ed said affectionately. He’d never cared all that much for presents, but if giving them made Roy happy, then he couldn’t very well stop him, could he?

He took the box.

“You should open it now,” Roy said, which meant, _we’re not leaving until you open your present._

Ed ripped the wrapping paper off without ceremony. It was impossible to delicately unwrap gifts from Roy, who taped presents like he was afraid they’d bust out and run away. It was a funny contradiction to the immaculate appearance Roy carefully maintained.

Under the wrapping was a plain white box with no indication as to what was inside, and inside the box was… a pair of gloves.

They were a brown leather that Ed could smell before he even took them out of the box. He ran his fingers over the smooth exterior and picked one up. He rubbed his thumb inside the cuff; the inside was lined with soft cashmere.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t rip these transmuting your automail blade,” Roy said. “They were quite expensive.”

“You didn’t have to get these for me,” Ed said. “One of my hands can’t even appreciate it.”

“I think it will,” Roy said. “Try them on.”

Ed frowned at him but set the box on the nightstand so he could slip the gloves on. On his flesh hand, the cashmere lining was soft and warm. On the automail, he might as well have not been wearing anything at all save for the fact that he couldn’t flex his finger joints as smoothly.

“I know you only wear gloves to hide that you have automail,” Roy began, and Ed felt defensiveness surface like an old ache.

“It’s not like I’m ashamed of it.” God, wouldn’t that break Winry’s heart. “I’d just rather avoid awkward conversations about how I got it. I hate lying.”

“I didn’t assume you were ashamed,” Roy said. “What I said still stands. But the paper-thin gloves you wear hardly serve any other purpose than covering them up. I thought you could keep these for the winter.”

He glanced out the window, and Ed followed his gaze. It was snowing.

Ed thought of his automail joints locking up when it got too cold, the extra maintenance. Of the cold steel cutting through the cloth of his regular gloves, the shiver Roy would try but fail to suppress when Ed’s hand would accidentally brush against his skin.

“And they do match your overcoat much more nicely than your other gloves,” Roy said, adjusting the lapels of Ed’s coat even though Ed knew they didn’t need fixing.

Ed cupped Roy’s face in his hands. He didn’t really like touching people with his automail, favored his right arm only when it came to fighting. Roy knew, would always walk on Ed’s left side when they held hands, and even when Ed was still in the military, even before they’d become actual friends, Roy would always offer his left hand to shake.

Despite everything automail had given him, it could never give Ed a sense of touch in the limbs he’d lost.

The gloves had helped to cope with it at first, the tactile sense of his flesh hand dulled by the layer of cloth. But heat and coldness would still permeate through, and Ed could always feel the heft of things in his left hand. He’d had to learn how much weight his automail arm could bear without overstraining it, and everything else that came with having an automail prosthesis. By now, Ed was used to the disparity between his arms; it was a part of him.

These gloves were thick enough that Roy almost felt the same under both hands.

“Yes?” Roy asked after a few seconds had passed and Ed hadn’t moved.

“I love you,” Ed said.

Roy’s smile broke Ed’s heart and filled it up at the same time. They’d been together for a few years now but sometimes Roy still looked at Ed like he was the most precious thing and he couldn’t believe Ed was really his, like every time Ed did or said something to affirm it he felt relieved, as if he’d been waiting for the catch.

Ed didn’t know how to tell him there was no catch, that he was all or nothing and he’d already decided that his heart, in its entirety, was Roy’s alone.

Roy settled one hand on Ed’s waist and brought the other up to cover Ed’s gloved automail hand. Ed saw but couldn’t feel it, but something about the gesture was comforting, made his chest warm.

He felt safe.

“I love you, too,” Roy said. “And I’m glad you like them.”

“Yeah, you sap. I love ‘em,” Ed said, and brushed Roy’s cheek with his left thumb.

Roy turned his head slightly into the touch and pressed his lips to Ed’s palm, a faint pressure. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“Aaand my daily sap tolerance has been reached. Cease and desist or we’ll find out the hard way if spontaneous human combustion due to excess affection is possible.”

Ed stepped back and dropped his arms but kept their hands together, turning his wrist so he could lace his fingers together with Roy’s, leather-gloved automail and bare skin.

Roy looked down in surprise, and Ed shrugged.

“Let’s see if the automail still gets cold through it. Come on,” Ed said, tugging lightly on his hand. “We’ll miss our reservation.”

“Yes,” Roy said, smiling that soft smile again, “let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> yet another collab with the amazing [foldedstars](http://foldedstars.tumblr.com/), please look at her companion art piece [HERE](http://foldedstars.tumblr.com/post/164532063183), IT'S SO TENDER AND HEARTWARMING
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


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